


Prophecy

by Trash



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Mild Season 11 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 03:38:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9639203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: Dean promises himself he will punch Sam if he mentions the cage again. And if you can't trust yourself, who can you trust?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title by Remy Zero.

**Used to feel the faith but now you're tired of trying.**

Dean promises himself that he will hit Sam if he mentions the cage again; and if you can't trust yourself who can you trust?

He is driving when it happens, muscle memory sending his fist into Sam's solar plexus without having to take his eyes off the road.

Sam gasps, winded, and clutches at his stomach. "Fuck, Dean," he hisses.

"Yeah, yeah. Just shut the fuck up, okay?"

For the rest of the car journey Sam does just that, but he finds his voice again once they check into a motel. "We need to talk about this," he says.

Dean busies himself with his weapons, unpacking his guns on the bed and arranging them in size order. "No, we really don't."

"So, what then? We just let it be the elephant in the room?"

"It's not the elephant in the room," Dean tells his guns. "It's not gonna happen."

"We did this, Dean," Sam urges, coming close enough to Dean to send a shiver down his spine. "We did this, and we can fix it. Why wouldn't you want that?"

Dean turns, their noses almost brushing, they're so close. "By sending you to hell? Sam, I've seen how that scenario plays out, and it isn't pretty. Croatoan? White suit? How many fucking times do we have to have this conversation?"

"And how many times do I have to tell you that this is a message from God?"

Dean rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. God loves you. You're one of his special chosen ones. Do you hear yourself when you speak? God isn't here, Sam. Alright? He's long gone. He Irish Goodbye'd years ago. And even when he was here, what good did he do? He let demons happen, he let sickness happen, he dropped church roofs on his devoted followers. God? He isn't the answer to anyone's anything, so drop it."

Shaking, Dean turns back to his guns, picking one up and carrying it to the table to clean. He concentrates on the action, focuses on his dad's voice in his head going 'if you have your gun in pieces you need to rebuild it fast enough not to be shot at if you're caught with your pants down.'

He resolutely does not think about Sam, who has turned to watch him.

"Since when did you care?" Sam asks, his voice small in the wake of Dean's shouting. "I prayed, and he answered me. You pray to Castiel; that's not the same thing."

"No. I prayed and Cas was the one listening, that's different."

"Whatever, Dean. If you don't have faith-"

"Oh I have faith," Dean snaps, slamming his gun back down onto the rag. "I have faith in things that are real. I have faith in us, together, finding a way to stop Amara. I don't have faith in a God who wouldn't answer me when I prayed. I prayed for you, when we were kids. I prayed for mom and dad and you. I prayed for the people we couldn't save. And you know what happened? Things just got worse. And they keep getting worse. So save your Sunday School bullshit, okay Sam? The only thing I believe in is us."

Sam swallows hard. "You prayed for me?"

Dean feels all the steam leave his body and he digs his hands into his pockets just for something to do, shrugs. "Sure. After mom died, when you were sad, when you were bullied. I prayed you'd be okay. I prayed for you when dad found out about us," he meets Sam's eyes. "When you went to Stanford I prayed for you to be safe and happy at last and then Jess-" he stops himself, takes a deep breath. "Sometimes I wonder who heard it all. Or if I was just shouting into a void."

"Dean-"

Dean holds up a hand as Sam goes to close the distance between them. "No way, we are not hugging this out. I'm not...I can't let you go down there. I can't. Somethings are better off buried, and Lucifer is one of them." The name tastes like pennies in Dean's mouth. "We'll find another way."

"Okay," Sam says, "okay." He ignores Dean's protests and steps closer, taking Dean in his arms. He kisses him softly, lips lingering on Dean's. "We'll find another way."

Dean isn't sure he believes him, if he believes himself, but he closes his eyes and nods anyway. 


End file.
